Katniss Everdeen is busy reblogging squirrel pics (tindernest) wrote in wariscoming,
Katniss cut off the exorcism with a strangled yelp when the demon grabbed her braid, gasping as he whipped her around and pressed the blade of the knife against her throat. It was tight enough against her that if she so much as swallowed hard it would have cut into her, and she froze, each of her muscles tensed to the point of quivering as he stroked her with it, moving up her throat until it was pressed against her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and she didn’t dare even to breathe as he traced her lips with the tip, just like Clove had done what seemed like so long ago and so close to now. The sensations came back as if they’d never left, because in a way they never had. She still had nightmares about the fight at the Cornucopia, Foxface disappearing over the ridge and then Clove’s knees on her chest and the blood in her mouth and the blade…Peeta always woke her up before the nightmare went too far. He must have grown accustomed to listening for the noises she made during her bad dreams, to feeling, even in his sleep, for the way her body tensed and twitched. She would wake up, sometimes crying, sometimes shaking and making noises that threatened to become screams, and he would hold her and talk to her, even half-asleep himself, about things that were silly and routine and safe until she fell asleep again, pressed securely against him. Peeta she thought, and just as the thought of Prim had spurred her into fighting against Clove, to make her death less painful for Prim to watch, the thought of Peeta pulled her back from senseless terror and her eyes snapped open again and she gathered the saliva in the side of her mouth and spit at the demon’s face, just before he spun her around and held her against him.
When he began dragging her she tried to use the moves Cindy had shown them, stomping on the inside of his step, digging her elbow into his side, but it was useless, his strength coupled with the fact that she couldn’t help pulling her punches, couldn’t help thinking that it was Peeta’s body she was hurting. She dug her fingernails into the underside of his wrist and wrenched herself sideways, feet digging into the ground, and felt a moment of triumph. I can get free, she thought, if I can just-- but they were already past the windows and she felt her feet leave the ground. The planned ‘christo’ died in her throat, replaced with a strangled yelp as he slammed her back against the tree.
She twisted in the air, fingernails scrabbling for purchase against the bark. If he kills me, she thought, he kills us both. So I can’t give up. She pulled her lips back into something like a growl, all teeth and fear and anger, as the demon wearing Peeta stalked closer, but couldn’t stop herself from flinching at his words. It wasn’t so much that the thought Peeta was angered by the fact that it was taking her some time to be ready for them to do more than sleep in their shared bed, it was that this, that side of their relationship, was private. To Katniss that privacy was as essential as love, the bright dividing line between the charade they had been forced into and the feelings she had managed develop on her own. Now it was gone, by burrowing into Peeta the demon had stolen it, along with all of his other privacy, any secrets he’d managed to keep after a year on camera, and the thought of that being done to someone she loved made her angry and despairing all at once.
“Wait,” she gasped as the demon flipped its eyes back to Peeta’s and her resolve crumbled, “take me. Let him go and take me instead.” Her voice was becoming stronger as the words came out and she leaned forward against the telekinetic restraint. “I’m faster, I’m a better shot, and I,” she swallowed, not able to call Peeta a name she knew he would hate, “I have both my legs. People let their guard down more around a girl. You want me instead, and if you let him go, let him get back inside the house, I won’t fight you. I’ll take the amulet off myself. Just let him go.”